


no directions for the lost

by irises



Category: Hamatora
Genre: Angst, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 20:02:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irises/pseuds/irises
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nice looks down at him and Art wonders if he’s thinking about what happened earlier with Takahiro. Art remembers the look in Nice’s eyes back then, the feeling he got when he saw Nice use his powers. Was it fear or admiration? Or maybe it was both. He was never really sure of anything when it came to Nice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no directions for the lost

Art's apartment is impressive. The building is modern, minimalist, with lush ferns in the lobby and an elevator with mirrored walls. Art always feels a little embarrassed bringing Nice back with him because of how vastly different their living situations are, but Nice never says a word about it. Nice isn't able to visit as much as they'd both like now they're both working, but he always smiles at the doorman like he's an old friend.

They stand beside each other in the elevator, as far apart as it's possible to be. They don't talk. Art catches Nice's gaze upon him, a flash of deep blue reflected off the mirrored wall, and if Art had blinked he'd have missed it.

A few moments later, when Art is tangled around Nice on the floor next to the genkan, Art gets another look at those deep blue eyes, now dark with lust, and they're even more beautiful than they had been in the elevator.

Art presses their hips closer together and Nice must be uncomfortable but he doesn't say anything, he just tilts up his face for a kiss, which Art gives to him obediently. Their tongues slide together in a well-practiced dance, so different to their first few kisses; tentative touches of lips and awkward tongues and too much teeth during their days at the academy. Back then, Art had wondered why someone as talented as Nice had been interested in him, and he still did now. That hadn't changed, despite the fact that Art had the kind of career even people at the academy could only dream of.

Nice moans into Art's mouth and Art can feel Nice's dick getting hard against his hip, so they relocate to the bed because it wouldn't do to have sex there on the floor. They both know from experience that it isn't a good idea.

Nice sits on the bed with Art standing in front of him, and begins to slowly strip him of his suit. Again, this is a well-practiced thing and Nice knows that Art is particularly sensitive around his hips, so he lingers there, taking his time undoing Art's belt, pressing his lips against the hot skin above Art's waist. By the time Nice finally frees Art’s cock, Art is so hard he thinks he’ll go out of his mind. His eyes roll to the back of his head when Nice teases the tip of his cock with his tongue.

Later, when Nice slides his slicked up cock inside of him, Art throws his head back and moans filthily, baring his throat because he knows Nice likes to kiss him there while they fuck. The pleasure is raw, just shy of pain, and Art welcomes it. But through the rush and the burn, Professor Moral's words from earlier that day won't leave him alone. Art closes his eyes, trying to concentrate on Nice's dick inside him - the way it fills him up completely, leaving no room for anything else. It's hopeless though. He tries so hard to keep the feelings locked away, but they're too personal, too connected to Nice. The guilt is palpable, just below the surface now. Art can almost feel it there, beneath his eyes and his skin.

 _Why don’t I have a Minimum ability?_

_Why, when all my friends have one?_

Art reaches out for Nice then, grabs onto the back of his neck and pulls him in for a needy kiss. If his fingernails dig into Nice’s neck, Nice doesn't comment on it.

 _I want a Minimum too._

_I'm jealous of them._

Nice’s cock brushes against his prostate and Art cries out. The sound is muffled by Nice’s tongue in Art’s mouth.

 _I'm jealous…._

_…...so jealous._

Art’s trembling fingers trace a path around Nice’s neck. He can feel the blood pulsing through the artery just underneath the skin of Nice’s throat. Art doesn't put any strength or intent behind the action, but Nice's eyes glint almost wickedly and he increases the pace of his thrusts.

 _I hate them._

Nice looks down at him and Art wonders if he’s thinking about what happened earlier with Takahiro. Art remembers the look in Nice’s eyes back then, the feeling he got when he saw Nice use his powers. Was it fear or admiration? Or maybe it was both. He was never really sure of anything when it came to Nice.

 _I could kill them._

Art is pretty sure he’s never been so hard in his whole life. He’s rock hard, right there underneath brilliant, sharp as a whip Nice, with his hands looped loosely around Nice's neck and life rushing underneath. His eyes sting and he tells himself it’s because of the pleasure, because it’s intense. He’s pretty sure he’s crying out for Nice to fuck him harder, but his voice feels far away.

Art comes without his cock even being touched. Nice kisses him through it, soft soothing kisses that Art doesn't deserve but takes anyway. He isn't sure when he took his hands away from Nice’s throat, but now they’re on the pillow above his head, clasped in Nice’s own hands. Their fingers are entwined and Art can still feel Nice’s pulse.

It doesn't take much longer for Nice to come. He’s not as noisy as Art is, not during sex anyway, and he gasps his pleasure against Art’s neck in between open mouthed kisses. Art hears something that might be his name but it also might not be, and Art isn't sure which would scare him more so he doesn't respond.

Nice is so gorgeous, so brilliant, and it used to be enough that Nice thought Art was brilliant too, but he isn't sure anymore. The one thing he fears the most is the day Nice could begin to look upon him with pity. He fears it more than his own feelings and even more than Professor Moral.

Later, while Nice dozes next to him, Art lies awake. Dread coils in his stomach, cold and ominous and he gets the feeling he won't be able to keep Nice by his side for much longer.

Art doesn't sleep that night, but Nice’s hair looks beautiful in the moonlight.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for this.
> 
> Also, this is set post episode three. I took some liberties with things like Art's living conditions, which I guess could probably be disproved in later episodes.
> 
> I'm not really a writer (as you can probably tell) but I had this idea and just ran with it, plus I am really interested in the relationship/friendship between these two characters. There's a lot of angst potential there.


End file.
